


You Don’t Know What You Have ‘till it’s Gone

by zsomeone



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-17
Updated: 2009-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-16 15:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3492923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zsomeone/pseuds/zsomeone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skwisgaar wakes up to an entirely different life.<br/>My attempt at writing from Skwisgaar's POV, you can imaging his thoughts are in Swedish if that works better for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don’t Know What You Have ‘till it’s Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I remember that this was somewhat inspired by the movie Family Man, but it's been way too long now for me to even remember the movie. So it might be close, or it might not.

I wake up slowly, with a vague sense of unease. Where am I, something’s not right This is definitely not my Mordhaus bedroom. And these sheets... ugh. Cheap cotton, with what feels like a low thread count at that. With _stripes_. I reached up to scratch my head, and forgot all about the cheap sheets. My hair... my hair was _GONE_. Well not completely gone, I’m not actually bald, but it’s very short, like the butler’s. OH WHAT THE _FUCK_....... who _did_ this to me?!! Then as I lowered my hands, something else caught my eye. Is that a ... _wedding ring_?! Oh shit, where am I and what the hell has happened to me?

I hear someone coming down the hall. Is it my “wife”, or am I having an affair with someone? I have no idea. I quickly look around the room hoping for a photo, _anything_ to tell me what to expect. Nothing, great, that’s just great. She comes in the door. She’s a bit younger than I usually like them, but pretty enough. “Oh good, you’re awake. Come on get up or you’ll be late for work.” I just stare at her. Work? What does she mean work? We never record this early, and there’s no way I’m going to let the guys see me with this hair. I’d never live it down. Did she do this to me? She must have. I try to ask her, “Whys did yous cut my hairs?” She just sighs. “Oh honey, did you have that rockstar dream again? You know you just had it trimmed again last week.”

Rockstar _DREAM_?!! But I’m Dethklok, that’s no dream. I’m the fastest guitarist alive. And I have no idea what is going on. I get out of bed, and look for my clothes. All I can find is khakis and shirts that button up. No jeans of any kind, nothing I’d normally wear. Having no choice, I put on the clothes. They fit perfectly, which is actually more disturbing. After a fruitless hunt for my boots, I am forced to settle for some kind of loafers. I can’t even recognize myself in the mirror like this. This hair, these clothes, I could be anybody, anybody but who I really am. I go downstairs.

I notice some really crappy art on the fridge, it reminds me of Toki’s macaroni Murder lady. Hey, is Toki here? Somewhere? I don’t even care about my hair right now, I just want to see him, see any of them. The woman (my wife?) sets a plate in front of me. I ignore it in favor of the coffee. “Is Toki heres too? Did he draws those?” “Skwis, you know damn well Missy made those. She just loves to draw, don’t know where she gets all that creativity from.” I notice a small photo on the fridge, a little girl with long blond hair and blue eyes. My _daughter_? Could this be possible? The woman is looking at me with concern. “I think you should take a taxi to work today, you still seem a bit disoriented. I don’t want you to drive.” I drive? Since when? And where do I work anyway? I let her usher me out the cab she has summoned, and she gives the driver the address and some money.

I look around as we travel, trying to figure out where I am. The city is unfamiliar, did we ever tour here? I can’t remember. The driver pulls up to a large building, and looks at me expectantly. I get out and follow the stream of people inside. Oh shit, cubicles?! I work in a _cubicle_?! How am I ever going to figure out which one is even mine? People greet me. I have no idea who they are. One guy stops. “Hey Skwis, did you get trough with my stapler?” I have no idea, but nod, hoping he’ll lead me where I need to go. He doesn’t disappoint, and soon we are at my cubicle. He grabs a stapler and departs. Not knowing what else to do, I sit down.

I have a computer. Well, I know how to use those, maybe I can figure out what’s going on? It’s worth a try. I pull up a search and type in “Dethklok”. There they are, my band, my.... friends. But there is no mention of me ever being one of them, I can’t understand it. Toki is the only guitarist. And then I start reading. “Dethklok burst onto the music scene in 2005, with their first album going straight to the top of the charts. However, due to a series of unfortunate accidents at several concerts, they soon lost most of their following. A desperate second album never even made it into the top 100, and the band soon called it quits. Only William Murderface went on, carrying his following band Planet Piss through three platinum albums. They are once again in the studio, working on the fourth.” What?! Dethklok is gone, but Planet Piss is successful? No, I can’t believe this. Where are the others? Nathan, Toki, Pickles? I tried Toki first, oh how I hate him. And miss him.

“Toki Wartooth, former guitarist for Dethklok, was arrested for solicitating. As this was his third offense, he was sentenced to 4 years in county jail.” Little Toki’s in jail? He can’t handle that, there’s no way he can handle that. It’s going to destroy him, if it hasn’t already. But what can I do? I can think of nothing.

I typed in “Pickles”, since I never even knew his real name, and got his obituary. Pickles OD’ed last year, not really surprising way for him to go. But _dead_?! How can he be dead, we just watched a movie together yesterday. Then Toki came in and threw popcorn at us.

Before I could search Nathan, I was interrupted buy some guy in a tie leaning over my cubicle wall. “Um, Skwis? I’m going to need those reports by tomorrow, ummkay...? Yeah. And if you could just remember to fill out the TPS report this time... that would be really great.” I guess this is my boss. What a dildo. I have no idea what he’s talking about anyway, and don’t care. As soon as he ambles on to annoy someone else, I search for Nathan. 

I was disappointed. Other than the mention of Dethklok, there was nothing, no information at all from the last several years. I was hoping I could at least call him, hear his voice, but I don’t even know were to start to look.

The butler.... what is his name again? I guess I should have learned it. Oldunson? No, that’s not quite right, but I can’t remember. Well, there’s always Murderface, but he never liked me very much. It’s not my fault that I can play his bass so much better than he can. But I don’t even know how to find his number anyway.

I find some papers, maybe these are those “reports”? I draw some dragons on them, it passes the time and they look a lot better now, not just boring papers. Between more dragons and some crappy preloaded computer games, I make it through the day. Finally, everyone starts to file out. Time to go home, but I realize I don’t even know where home is. Wait, I have a wallet.... yes I have a driver’s licence. That’s just too weird. It’s almost expired, so I’ve obviously had it for years, but I don’t even know how to drive. And my hair is gone even in this old photo. I copy down the address and manage to catch a cab. I hand him the address and he takes me back to that (my?) house. 

The woman greets me at the door. I still have no idea what her name even is. I could _really_ use a drink. “Brings me a drink.” I tell her. She looks at me reprovingly. “Skwissy, you know we don’t have anything alcoholic here. You’ve been doing so well in your 12 step program, what brought this on?” I decide to ignore her, and go sit on the couch. There’s a little girl sitting on the floor watching TV, I guess she’s my daughter. I just really can’t bring myself to care right now. I stare at the TV too, not really seeing it, until the woman calls us to dinner.

I look at the plate she sets before me with dread. What is this crap? Does she really expect me to eat this? “Is something wrong, hon?” I can only shake my head in resignation, and force myself to take a bite. Yes, it’s pretty bad. I pick at it some, just enough to keep her attention off me. She prattles on and on, talking about people I don’t know or care about. I try to nod occasionally, lost in my thoughts. Finally, it seems to be over. She looks disapprovingly at how little I’ve eaten, but doesn’t say anything. I guess I must do this a lot. She cleans up, then calls to the child (was it Missy?) to come take a bath. I go back to the TV, but I’m still not seeing it.

She bustles around, doing various things. What is with this woman, and why don’t I (we) have a servants? She goes to put the child to bed, and I decide to take a shower. Oh, the disappointment never ends. Am I really expected to wash my hair with this store brand crap? It seems that I am, there’s nothing else in here. I shower quickly, wanting to be out of this dingy and understocked little bathroom. She’s waiting when I finish, and we trade places. I get in bed and wait, deciding that maybe sex will make things better. It usually does, for me. 

She comes out, wearing some kind of long nightgown. Not sexy, but it does make her look older... I like older. Putting on my best seduction face (although I fear the loss of my hair decreases it’s power), I reach for her. To my amazement, she doesn’t respond. She actually turns away from me. From _me_. “No Skwissy, not tonight. I’m really tired and you’ve been acting weird all day.” Seeing no choice, I try to find a comfortable position on this crappy bed, these cheap sheets. Finally, _finally_ , I manage to drift off to sleep.

 

I wake up slowly, afraid to open my eyes. The sheets were much softer now. Hardly daring to hope, I reach out to run my hand over the blanket... _YES_!! Fur, _my_ fur. I sit up. I am back in my room, everything seemed normal again. And yes, my hair is back to it’s usual glory. But what if everything’s _not_ normal? It’s so early, if the others are here, they won’t even be awake yet. But I can’t wait, I have to go look. I get up and put on my clothes. Yes, MY clothes, not that horrible stuff. I feel like myself again, such a relief. I pass Nathan’s room. I know he’s not up yet, but I just have to sneak a peek. Yes, he’s in there. Funny, I didn’t know I cared about all them so much. I quietly close the door and keep going. 

Toki’s door is open, he must be up early too. I figure he’s probably in the kitchen, so I head that way. Yes, there he is, perched on a stool eating cereal or something. He looks up and grins at me. I can’t help it, I go over and give him a bug hug, surprising a squeak out of him. He hugs me back happily enough. “Wowee Skwisgaar, what was thats for?” “Just realizing hows much I hates yous, little Toki.” He grins again and whispers “It’s okays Skwisgaar, I hates you too.” 

It’s so good to be home.


End file.
